


Wayward Son

by DesertVixen



Category: Chalion Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5409767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/pseuds/DesertVixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penric kin Jurald returns home for a visit after his seminary days in Rosehall...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wayward Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaomiK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiK/gifts).



Lord Penric kin Jurald drew rein and dismounted. 

The place along the trail was not particularly distinguished, except to himself and Desdemona. It was here that Learned Ruchia had breathed her last, passing her uncertain gift to an unwitting Penric. She had called him a “gift of sorts”, even if he was wrapped in the wrong colors. 

Those colors had changed now, Penric having traded his hand-me-down browns and oranges for dark gray riding clothes and cloak that hid the white, cream, and silver braids he wore at his shoulders, to signify his service to the Bastard. He was still not entirely sure what that service would entail. So far, he and Desdemona had done nothing very remarkable. He kept being told, however, by other divines that the white god clearly had a plan for him – generally in a tone that implied they were quite happy not to be in his shoes.

Outwardly, Penric had not changed much – the lean stripling had become a lean man who moved with grace and assurance. Desdemona enjoyed a dance as much as any woman he knew, so he had made the effort to learn, even if meant drowning out her comments about how odd it felt to lead. Desdemona found the dark gray to be far more flattering to his brilliant blue eyes than brown and orange , and she had taught him ten women’s lives worth of bargaining skills.

Five years had passed since the last time he had ridden along this road, and Penric could hardly believe how much his life had changed.

He had envisioned a future with a pretty merchant’s daughter, whose father wanted a fancy-sounding title for his only girl and was willing to pay for it. Penric had not expected an extravagant love-match, but instead had decided he would endeavor not to make anyone unhappy with him – his father-in-law, his older brother, his mother, and of course, Preita his lady wife. It would not have been such a bad existence, and Penric could spare a brief regret for that life-that-never-was. The life but he lived now was certainly more interesting.

Penric still wondered precisely what Learned Tigney had written in the missive that had gone to Jurald Court to explain that rather than sending their youngest son home without any extra passengers, they were instead sending him to the Bastard’s seminary at Rosehall so he could learn how to control the demon that rode him. 

Penric’s mother had felt that the gods were finally smiling upon her family, but none of them had expected that the fifth god would take a particular interest in him. By the time their letters had reached him at Rosehall, his mother had sent her best wishes and the hope that Penric would take care of himself, while his brother Rolsch wanted to confirm that Penric had no further need of a stipend from home.

Desdemona had changed his life. She had given him a chance to be someone different, to live a life other than the one his relatives had mapped out for him. It was difficult not to change when one had what amounted to ten women sharing the space inside his head – the spirits of Desdemona’s previous riders. Desdemona was a demon, but as far as Penric could tell, she was a fairly benign one – and for some reason, the white god had decided not to take Desdemona back. He had been told that he would need luck, and there had been a few small occasions when luck had come in handy. Penric was pleased with the chance to see the world outside his own small space, and Desdemona had been pleased to not be sent back to the Bastard by the Saint of Idau.

It had taken him awhile to realize that it was not just his life that had been changed. Without his marriage to Preita, there had been no chance for the cheese merchant’s money to improve kin Jurald holdings, as Rolsch had intended. It was a loss for all of them, even if Rolsch no longer needed to pay Penric’s expenses. It was not precisely one of the disasters out of season that the white god was famed for, but neither had it been a blessing for his entire family. Desdemona had flippantly suggested that perhaps Rolsch should marry the heiress himself, a suggestion that Penric had prudently not addressed in his infrequent letters home.

Finally, he was returning home for a visit after having completed his time in the Rosehall seminary. Penric told himself that he would soon see what, if anything, had changed besides him. This time, when he left his home, he would head for the city of Freitten, to serve in the Bastard’s temple there. It was another one of the ironies of his life – Penric had once hoped to go to the newer, smaller university in Freitten, and instead had been given the gift of study at Rosehall. 

Now, however, Penric reached into his leather saddlebag and pulled out the small bouquet of the roses that Rosehall was famed for. The cream-colored flowers had been carefully dried and arranged with sprigs of lavender blossom, wrapped in cream, white and silver ribbons, much like the braids a Temple divine would wear. He had felt that it would be appropriate to mark the spot, just as he had knelt there the morning he left.

Penric knelt to place the bouquet to mark the spot, and to pray. Prayer had become much more real to him, although he had yet to have another experience such as his meeting with the Saint of Idau. That had been his only true brush with the divine so far, although he understood the current theological argument that demons came from the realm of the gods.

*** ***

It had been quite pleasant to come home bearing gifts. Penric had brought his mother and sisters silks from Martensbridge, as well as some of the rose-scented creams and sachets that seemed to be sold everywhere in Rosehall’s market. For his older brother, he’d had a handsome set of riding clothes made, something that he thought Rolsch would enjoy. There had been a festive dinner, and he had discovered that he had actually missed some of the cheese dishes the region was famed for.

They had all been pleased to see him, but Penric had noticed that there was a definite distance between his family and himself. He supposed it was logical. Penric had noticed that one side effect of advertising his service to the white god was that other people developed a tendency to…sidle away from him, he supposed. 

It was disappointing at first, since he was a fairly friendly person, but after spending more time among the divines at Rosehall, he had a better understanding of why. His adventures at Martensbridge, which had resulted in people screaming and rushing and sudden flames and boats drifting aimlessly, had been only a preview. Disorder was one of the Bastard’s tools, and it was quite amazing how much disorder an entire school full of His followers could achieve. _On the other hand_ , Desdemona chimed in, _it is worth noting that Rosehall has never been captured by an enemy_.

_There is that_ , Penric answered. 

_Enjoying your visit?_ Desdemona’s voice sounded amused in his head. 

Penric was incredibly grateful that he had mastered the skill of conversing with Desdemona in his head, so that she no longer had to speak using his own mouth – probably the most disturbing part of their initial days. There were other things that they had developed an understanding about, including the fact that she didn’t speak to him during intimate moments. Not that she hadn’t given him a few pointers along the way when it came to dealing with women - not necessarily ladies. He could still hear her pleased laughter over the fact that he was a quick study.

_I am_ , he thought to her. _It is good to be home_.

His concern about the distance went unspoken. He half-expected Desdemona to bring it up, but she remained silent.

*** ***

In the morning, Penric discovered that his choice of divine patron was not the only reason for the stilted behavior from his family. His older brother had decided that the only way to recover the family fortunes was to marry well, and he had chosen to marry Preita. Although Penric had assumed that Preita’s parents would be entertaining new suitors for her hand (and their money) as soon as he was out of sight of Greenwell, that had not happened. 

Instead, there had been whispers that perhaps there was a reason the youngest kin Jurald boy was waylaid by a demon, and Preita had paid the price. Penric regretted that – he had not intended to hurt anyone, certainly not the unlucky girl who had not been overjoyed with the idea of marrying him either.

_Surprising it took this long for him to figure it out_ , Desdemona said after he had paced the garden for awhile. _It is not a bad match, by some standards_.

Penric could not argue. It was not a bad match – his family was an old and respected one, even if there was not much in their pockets or houses. He doubted Rolsch would mistreat the young woman who was his hope of salvaging their estates, and it was unlikely that he would be able to spend all of her money. Penric assumed that her father would protect his daughter's interests on that score.

Yet he couldn’t help feeling that she deserved better. He had not loved her, but Penric thought that he would have tried to make her happy. Rolsch would not concern himself with the matter. Penric hoped that Rolsch would be less overbearing as a husband than he was an older brother.

There had been a strongly worded suggestion that he depart sooner than planned for Freitten, but the weather had put a stop to that. Penric had tried not to smile openly – he and Desdemona had not caused the bad weather – but he had been slightly discomfited by the thought of facing Preita again at dinner.

*** *** 

Later, in his bedchamber, Penric breathed a sigh of relief. The dinner had not been the most comfortable one of his life, but he had survived it. Preita had retained her young, pretty roundness, and she had treated him with the utmost consideration. He longed to know how she truly felt about marrying his dull stick of an older brother, but he could not ask the question – no matter how much Desdemona whispered it in his head. Preita had smiled and said all that was correct, and Rolsch had done the same. The betrothal ceremony had set for two days hence, and Penric had decided that it was better to be moving on before then. His mother had expressed sadness, but he sensed that she was a little relieved to see him go. 

Freitten, of course, was not so far away as Rosehall, and Lady Jurald had expressed the desire to visit him when possible.

_As if there aren’t enough women around to tell you what to do_ , Desdemona had grumbled at the prospect. 

_She means well_ , Penric thought a little sharply. His mother did mean well, but she had not fully accepted the fact that her youngest had grown up.

_She means to smother you, given another chance._

Penric had a hard time arguing with that. He was not exactly looking forward to a visit from his mother, but he thought it would be less awkward than this situation. He and Rolsch had exchanged a minimum of words after his older brother informed him of the impending marriage. Penric felt as if he was almost shrinking now that he was home again, reverting back to his role as the baby of the family.

_You need not shrink, blue-eyed boy_ , Desdemona told him. _You’re worth more than the rest of the lot put together_. 

He smiled to himself. He would not allow himself to be pushed back into that role, and he would speed his departure to Freitten.

Suddenly, he felt anxious to know what the white god had in store for him next.

_We will see_ , Desdemona said. _But you should be careful what you ask for. He may be in the mood to grant your wishes_.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope you liked this! I enjoyed your idea of the visit home after university and plenty of the awkward, as well as their relationship, and it was fun to play in the 5 Gods universe.
> 
> I couldn't find that Rolsch was married in the novella, and they do still need the money.
> 
> Also, if I was wrong about the theological argument, then they are teaching different things in the Wealdean universities... or Rosehall is teaching a heresy.


End file.
